Justice 4664
by geo100020002
Summary: This is actually an original piece... though the name pyro isnt exactly original.. not sure how to categorize it... sort of futuristic criticism is cool.. anything i get wrong, informationally, techniologically, or anything... plz tell me also no fla


Prologue

The silent night. What silent night? Earth is nothing more then a rotting battlefield full of decrepit shit. In the undergrounds, people take shelter from the ongoing rain of bullets, bombs, and bodies. But to what use? They have already sent a grade-s bio weapon towards Earth. Once the virus descends upon earth, it will spread like wild fire. There will be no vaccines and no shelters. Only death, slow and painful. All humans are susceptible, there is no defense, it can penetrate most conventional materials, it can kill any living thing. However, even at the brink of total annihilation and the gut of Armageddon, there is still a burning desire to live.

In the face of this formless daemon, there is still a scream for life and, people still prey. We look up to the grey and dreary sky in search of a utopian God who will smite them and bring forth euphoria. Unfortunately, none of this exists. We as humans are alone in a moldering shell. There is no salvation and, there is no holy light. There is only conflict, blood, and death. However, are we will to pay this price? To relieve ourselves of this war by fighting harder, better, faster, and stronger (yes, this is suppose to be funny), is it worth it? The Pangean Experimental Group (PEG) has decided that fighting harder is the only way out of this hellhole. They are far more advanced then we are; in addition, their AI tech is light years ahead of ours. However, they do not think like humans. They can not decipher massive information and process it in sub-conscience in seconds, what most people call sub-conscience thought. But, how do we solve the problem of our biological weakness to their bio-weapon? Perhaps, we must play witch doctor, we must voodoo witch, and we must call upon the dead. However, not in the conventional sense. What do I mean by this? Oh you'll see, you'll definitely see.

Chapter 1 January 5th, 4664

" Mr. Hawkins sir, I don't think this will work." Said the lab assistant nervously. "Well this shit better work otherwise it will be four billion dollars down the fucking drain and someone ain't gonna be happy about this shit." Yelled Mr. Hawkins. He was a cold, cruel, and ruthless man. He grew up in project district 466 in a place that makes criminals want to cry. However, he held the belief that he was going to come out of his crappy home and make it big in the world. 30 years of research, work, and brown-nosing finally lead him to his position of president of PEG. Through the course of his life, his childhood innocence was smashed by his own hands, his happiness replaced with a need for wealth and power, and his compassion replaced with cold and ruthless logic.

He holds a calm complexion, his face set in granite with his eyes peering upon the operation room. To him, this new project was nothing more then a way for him to rise up in fame, wealth, and power. However, even with his years of chaos, he is still nervous. He knows that the government grant wouldn't last forever; if his project screws up, then he's going to end up in a pile of deep shit.

There are assistants running around frantically with equipment, data, and news updates on _the project_. All Hawkins can think about is his fat ass sitting on a pile of money as he watches the world bow down to his feet. Suddenly, he flashes back to the first day _the project _proposed.

(Flashback (all dialogue)) 4656

"Mr. Hawkins, can I talk to you?" Said a researcher. "Hey, you're that new guy Leon right? What do ya want?" said Hawkins. "I think I have a solution to our problems against them. You know the new poly-carbons that we have been trying out?" "What about that stuff?" muttered Hawkins "Well we can use that as an observatory base so that people can fight while looking through it like glass." L "But your forgetting, that shit takes tons of money just enough to make a fucking bowl and you wanna make a suit?! God damn it get some sense in your head. Wait, how's that mind control stuff going?" H "Its alright, if only we had actual brain control over the parts. Then we could completely manipulate the projects." L "Hold up, (smirking evilly) why don't we go get a couple of brains, slam some control chips on their brains and then fire them up?" H. "But sir, that's against every law and moral value in this world. You are desecrating and controlling humans." "Well it's a god damn apocalypse and we need fighting machines. Make it happen or your ass is gonna be sitting on one hot fire." H "But sir" L "Do it damn it!" H

(back to reality)

"It's finally gonna fucking happen. I can finally make it happen. The phantoms will finally come to life" smirked Hawkins. "Fire up GENESIS starting in T minus 10 seconds." Said the mainframe computer. "Well this is it. If this works then I'm gonna be one happy man." Said Hawkins "3, 2, 1, start" "said the computer. The room starts to shake as the generators power up, the body of Phantom 00 is placed on the operation table. A brain that has been growing inside a facilitated tube is now placed inside the poly-carbon capsule and sealed inside. The world outside seems to stop as Hawkin's scientists care out all procedures for getting Phantom 00 to work. "Current flow normal, all equipment in check, mind control is in place, generators are ready to go." Yelled an assistant. "Lets fire it up!" yelled Hawkins. The generators start to produce massive amounts of electricity and heat and it is shot straight into the body of 00. The surge is so powerful that some of the lab assistants in the near vicinity are killed due to electrocution. The phantom seems to be moving as if it was a living person. "What the hell, is its lips moving?" yelled Hawkins. "FAILURE, FAILURE, GENESIS must be aborted!" Yelled the mainframe computer. "What the fuck. NO. This can't be happening!" screamed Hawkins. With a big flash that blinds the eye like the light of truth, the generators fail and all equipment falls on reserve power, no where near enough to power GENESIS once again. "What the hell am I gonna do now? What the fuck was 4 billion dollars for? A god damn light show and shit?" yelled Hawkins. Such stupidity, such emotion, such ignorance.

The speakers. They start to pick up the sound of a song. It sounds like faint drums and synthesizers. The volumes starts to increase little by little. "Oh My Dear God. I'm getting trace signs of a heart beat and brain wave activity from 00." Yells a lab assistant. "I don't believe it. Activate the brain CU now. I don't want 4 billion dollars running out the door." Hollered Hawkins. However, he's defiantly in for a big surprise. "What the hell? Sir, we're loosing readings on all of his vitals. Its like something is over riding our mainframe computer system." Yelled a lab assistant. The music is getting stronger and louder by the minute. Then the speakers start blaring something. "After I'm gone, your earth will be free to live out its miserable span of existence. Because one of my satellites. And that's how it is." Suddenly, everything dies out. The room stands still, all life ceases to having meaning in that instant. A new harbinger of uncertainty arises. "GRARRRRR" 00 awakens from his deep slumber. The flame jets and packs all over his body erupt with sharp flames that melt titanium like butter. "Quick turn on the mind control." Yells Hawkins. "Sir, its no use. The control was damaged in the process. We have no control!!" yelled the assistant. "Fucking Hell. At least cut off his memories, kill him, destroy him, do what ever we can to him." Roared Hawkins. "Get out of my FUCKING MIND and stay OUT!!" yelled 00. He's confused, he's angry, he's ready to tear down the world with all his might. What to do? What is happening? The speakers blare the bass and synth of Ghosts N Stuff as he makes a stunning display of pure technological madness and ingenuity. The fire jets from his hands and feet start to burn and incinerate everything in path. A couple of employees are singed beyond recognition. Finally, he fires his boosters and makes a get away. The bass and synth of Ghosts N Stuff blare away as he makes his escape. To what world does he escape to? A shitty, rotten, fucked-up of a shell the world has become. He has taken his first frighten step into the world of "Justice". What justice? There is none in this world. There is only conflict, blood, and death. He takes his first step into Justice 4664.

All notes that I feel need to be explained in previous parts

1. S-grade is some grade I made up that means really powerful… think apocalyptic bio-bomb.

2. They = the enemy.. yet to be described.

3. The music is the song Ghosts n Stuff. For further detail.. contact me… theres no other way of explaining it.

Anymore questions just email me.

Chapter 2 January 8th, 4664

"What the hell?" muttered 00. He feels exploding pulses coursing through his head and body. "Probably just a bad migraine" he said. The dark alley blinds 00 as he fumbles around for a way out. By now, his memories have been shot and the weapons offline. 00 stumbles around in the alley like a blind man searching for hope. The walls are littered with the symbols of 玄亡, the Silver Soldiers, and other gangs. The floor, dirtied from years of neglect. Not the prettiest sight ever. As he wanders around thoughts pop in his head like unexpected pests. "Who am I and, where am I?" muttered 00. He scrutinizes his composition. The perfectly sculpted arms and hands he stares blankly at seem distant, unfamiliar, and almost alien. The unfamiliar garbs seem as if they were from a hospital of some sort. As he stares at his own complexion, he can't bring forth memories of his past, identity, or why his current situation exists. Despite it all, his face held no surprise, no fear, and no paranoia. Only a slight detection of confusion ran through his face. "Meh, I might be some Cooke from an insane asylum." Sighed 00. His calm demeanor still hasn't changed despite everything. As he walks, he notices a slight clinking sound in his pocket, almost inaudible but defiantly noticeable. He draws into his coat pocket, into the spark of his new life. "Hmm. A military tag… Name: Xander Smith, #:00, CN: Pyro." Murmured Pyro. The name puzzled him yet drew him in like the song of sirens. "Well, I don't know where I am and who I am. It can't hurt to trust a military tag. The worlds the slate and you're the chalk. I ain't got nothing to lose." Declared Pyro. His declaration seemed to be like the signing of a contract. The shadows fade away like dirt off a gem and, the lights of the 4664 Earth come in full view like the intoxication of a sweet drink. Pyro is speechless as he looks at the marvels of 4664. Transportation has reached a personal level where one can fly like the birds do, if only there were still birds. Holographs are no longer reserved for the movies and George Lucas. Paper has lost all meaning in a world of electronic fiber representation. "Wow, I'm sure this ain't 2500. Oh well, I guess I gotta work how to live in this weirdo world." Said Pyro. Little does he know, his depiction of the future world is nothing more then the make-up smothered pimple on the ass of the true world, the one where everyone else lives in. In this city of Euphora, everyone has their own personal Jesus (yep a reference to Marilyn Manson). All needs are answered, everyone lives a "happy life", everyone lives a motherfucking dream that delivers all desires. "The City of Euphora. Your desires are reality, you live the life you _want_." Pyro read as he looked at a billboard. "Yea right, like shit like that is ever gonna happen? God, the future is really fucked up." Smirked Pyro. He has always followed a realistice, but somewhat cynical, view upon life and philosophy. Humans are innately bad. When people are shocked about the atrocities humans create, he replies with a nonchalant reply that human nature can lead people to do horrible thing. People call him cynical, people call him heartless, and people call him inhumane. Well, at least that's 1 thing he remembers. As he strolls through Euphora, a seeming humanoid figure walks up to him, correction, an android figure walks up to him. "Holy shit they have real live robots now? Sweet." Smirks Pyro. "Good afternoon human, I do not believe you are registered in any of our data banks. Please prepare for an identification scan." Rambled the android. His eyes probed out of his skull and proceeded to shine an obnoxious, I repeat _obnoxious,_ red light all around Pyro to perform an analysis. "What the hell are you doing? Ever heard of personal privacy?" yelled Pyro. "Scan complete, thank you for your cooperation. Please way for computation and issuing of ID." Droned the android. Out of a port in his chest, popped a card the size of a drivers license. On it, it was labeled as C grade Citizen, with his name, approximate age, and type. What disturbed Pyro was the classification that he was given, human cyborg. "Hold up man, I think you got a mistake. I'm a person and, I don't think I'm a cyborg." Joked Pyro. "Negative citizen 2643240, my scans show that you are indeed a cyborg." Spewed the Android. This, unlike the idea of not remembering his identity, disturbed Pyro, somewhat. "Oh well, I guess not everything is perfect in this time." Sighed Pyro. He continues to wander aimlessly in the big city and marvels at the many advancements made in this new and strange millennia. As the day turns to night, Pyro walks into Metalark Park (think Central Park, for The Boondocks fans this is a reference.. sorry.. couldn't think of a better park name), not knowing the dangers lurking about. "Damn, no trees in a god damn park. That's stupid." Whined Pyro. "Shut the fuck up and give me your money!" yells a thug. The thug's hands tremble as he holds a 9mm gauge black Smithson laser pistol. The black barrel of the gun glistens against the flashing lights of broken light posts and, the air feels dead and silent. "Holy shit! Dude I don't even know who I am, let alone have any money. I swear on my own grave!" yelled Pyro. "I don't fucking believe you. Gg-ive me your god damn money Bbefore I blast you. You-you piece of shit." Yelled the thug with hessitation. "Dude I swear I really don't have anything. Come on don't shoot man!" yelled Pyro in rapid succession. "I'll kill you mother fucker. Rawrrr!!." Yelled the thug. The thug fires off the pistol as fast as he can and starts to charge towards Pyro. Being that the thug is nervous, he misses Pyro by a good mile and Pyro has time to react. He dives under swiftly and the thug flies over. The thug, enraged like a red-eyed bull, pulls out a viper fang adamantium (excuse me for my lack of a better sounding fictions metal) switchblade and lunges at Pyro. "NOO!!! GET AWAY!!!" yelles Pyro. Suddenly the flame jets in his wrists activate and deliver an explosion the size of a small grenade and blast the thug into a million pieces. The blast generates so much power that hot steaming blood flies all over the park and lathers everything from the benches to a statue of the mayor of Euphora. "OH MY GOD! What the FUCK was that?! Did I just kill him?!" screamed Pyro. It hits him like a train. His whole body feels like its going through a needle spiked blender and then squeezed through a brick wall. Its like as if his whole body was being pulverized from the inside. His jets still glow hot red like the scalding iron of a black smith and the surrounding edges seem to pump some sort of blue coolant, possible liquid nitrogen or maybe helium. Scared, distraught, and disturbed, Pyro runs to hide in some ditch where no watchful eyes can find him and brand him for the freak that he is.

"Sir, I have confirmation on 00's movements. The weapon lock has now been disengaged and, 00 seems to be starting to use his abilities." Whispered Leon through the microphone. "Good, keep an eye on him. PEG already has me in deep shit for screwing over 4 fucking billion dollars." Grunted Mr. Hawkins. "Do you want me to tell Labs to start preparations for 01?" said Leon "I'll tell them myself. I want this one to be controllable. I will spear head this project myself." Said Mr. Hawkins "Yes Sir" Leon whispered back. "You got away this time 00. But, I'm gonna make you shit bricks as you meet 01 and come crawling back into my fucking hands like a dog. Just wait punk."

Mr. Hawkins muttered.

Chapter 3 January 9th 4664

"Xander! It's time to go to school!" whispered a girl. Her voice sounds like the song of sirens and, Pyro takes in the voice like the elixir of life, every drop. "Don't make me wake you up _that_ way." said the girl. She pushes his shoulder gently like a mother waking her sleeping child. "Come on, I don't want to go to school. There no point to go to school anyways. No one talks to me or hangs with me." murmured Pyro. "Don't say that; you will always be my speci—a—l." she whispered. The dream suddenly cuts off like an old film, bringing viewers out of a utopian dream into cold reality. "Huh?! What was that?!" shivered Pyro. The sound of her voice lingers like the sweet smell of a red wine and, the emotion of nostalgia is warm like the feeling of a glove worn in with years of wear, tear, sweat, and tears. Without knowing it, Pyro starts to cry like a new born baby. His tears seem alien, xeno in nature, and foreign. "Why the hell am I crying? Its like something in my life was ripped out. Awe shit, this is so uncool. Who was that girl? Why the hell am I crying?" muttered Pyro. His tears evaporate as quickly as they come due to his nature. Even the tears he shed remind Pyro of his fleeting past. What are these tears for? A surge of emotions hit him like a bomb in his mind. His CPU is overloaded with the flurry of emotions, calculations, and conditions needed to maintain his vitals. "What's with this headache? Why am I crying? Where is a god when you need him?!" hollered Pyro. In this world, there is no god. Humans live lives encased in a bubble of materialism, disregard, and blind euphoria. Poor Pyro. After a good hour of contemplating his current dilemma, fatigue steals his attention like a fire for a moth. His dreary mind slips back into darkness, sweet, comforting, warm, silent darkness.

"Welcome to the force soldier, I believe you're the new recruit … Jack was it?" said Commander Mitch. "Y-yes sir! Private Jack reporting for duty, Sir!" said Jack. At 1.69m and 120lbs, Jack looks like he could fit right in at the middle school play grounds; let alone be in the police force. "Despite your, physical, disadvantages, I think you will make a great office. You have the mind and iron conduct of one. I have faith in you." Smiled Mitch "T-thank you sir." murmured Jack. His one wish is to serve his city of Euphora and protect the streets. Jack's father was a drunkard and never helped around the house and, his mother died when he was just a baby. In his school days, he was picked on for being the drunk's son and harassed many times for it. Growing up, he felt that no one should be treated the same way he was. Strangely, this leads to his current situation as a new private as an officer. "Ok, your first mission is to do a check up along sector 20 for any suspicious signs. If you see any activity, possible signs, or anything, then ring us up on your communicator and we will bring in the closest back up. Remember, if it's really dangerous, don't hesitate to bring in back up." said Mitch calmly. Mitch is about 48 and on the verge of retiring from the force. Working his way up from a lonely private, Mitch has had a long history with the force. Being that he has no kids of his own, seeing the youth participate in the force lights up his confidence like a match to gas. Jack seems like the son he never had, a young boy willing to be molded to protect his city. The youth that march into his office and enlist themselves in a profession of untold danger and hours, amaze Mitch and give him reason to continue his job. "Is there anything else I need to know?" asked Jack "Nah, sector 20 is pretty mellow. So, you're probably not gonna come across anything unusual. None the less, stay alert." Said Mitch

Despite his training, Jack is still a little uneasy about his first patrol, as an officer. "Lets see, no major signs of crime, some graffiti here and there… but nothing major. Wait, hold up. Who's that?" muttered Jack. Jack's eyes fall upon the sleeping figure of Pyro. At first Jack thinks that Pyro is nothing more then a hobo. However, the hospital garbs and lack of filth beg to differ. "Hey, are you alright sir?" stuttered Jack. "Mrrm. Oh My God! Get away! I don't want to hurt anyone!" screamed Pyro. The memories of killing the thug in Metalark park come rushing back into his head as he sees Jack in his uniform. "I swear I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it! I don't know why its happening!" cried Pyro. His eyes start to dilate as he considers the possible outcomes of his current situation. _"Is the cop going to kill me? Is he gonna put me in prision? Oh my god I'm freaking out"_ though Pyro. In reaction, his fire ports start to heat up as they arm for possible confrontation. "S-sir I don't mean any harm. As long as if you aren't making any trouble I'm fine with what ever problem you have. If it helps you could talk about it. I promise on my honor I won't take you in. It seems you're in a deep predicament and, I'm here to help, not to scare you." stuttered Jack. As Pyro's flame ports start to heat up even more, Jack's heart beat is going through the roof as he watches the flames grow like a bomb ready to explode. However, Jack took up this job to help; getting scared isn't going to help him now. "If we can talk this over, I'm sure I can help, somewhat." said Jack. "Well, ok. You promise you not gonna hurt me?" inquired Pyro. Jack nods yes like a sibling comforting a younger brother. "Well, I don't know who I am, where I am or come from, and I'm totally confused about everything. To top it off, I have this mother-fucking weird ability to shoot flames and I killed a thug in some park by accident. He w-was coming at me and, I-I just pushed my hands out instinctively and then my flame powers went of and k-killed him." stuttered Pyro. "Wow, I find it hard to believe any of that. But, I think you're telling the truth. For now, just keep a low profile. Make sure you avoid letting your flame powers go loose. Not all police officers are kind. Many will resort to violent action at the sight of you." sighed Jack. The images of war, pestilence, former beatings, and former ass-whoopings come rushing into Jack's mind as he tells Pyro about the world. "For now, go to Mama Annie's. Tell her that you're a friend of Jack's and she will help you around. Just make sure you don't freak her out and don't mention anything about your powers." whispered Jack. "Thank you. I never believed that anyone would help me in this twisted world." sighed Pyro. "Just be careful." said Jack. After bidding each other good bye, Jack and Pyro split their separate ways. Jack into the world of blind justice and vigilantism and, Pyro into an unknown world and an unknown self. Both are new comers into their worlds. How are they going to make it? Will their kind hearts survive in the beautiful shell and rotting core of 4664?

February 20th 4664

"01, nice to finally meet you." muttered Mr. Hawkins. Lighting a Zubian cigar, Mr. Hawkins stares at his one-way ticket out of the shit-ass mess known as 00. "Your job is to find that son-of-a-bitch 00 and destroy him. Got it?" demanded Mr. Hawkins. A lean and tall figure, 01 has the complexion of a commander with a heavy frame. It is said that PEG takes Mongolian and Viking influences in creating this phantom. Standing tall at 1.9m and around 210lb, 01 is easily one of the strongest phantoms in the world. Armed with about 6 shotguns ranging from 12 gauge to custom .4mm shells, he is defiantly badass beyond definition. Oops better not give too much away about him. "Do you have any other orders Sir?" said 01. "Nothing else, just get the job done or face termination. Oh yes, we have prepared a land transportation vehicle that might suit your _former_ tastes" muttered Mr. Hawkins. The clicks of army boots come to a halt at the sight of a Harley Davidson 2010 reissue Dyna Wide Glide. Standing long and lean at 2.8m with its Twin Cam 96 engine hauling 1600cc, the twin "Tommy Gun" exhausts give it an old and rough look. The rugged spoke tires seem like they are ready to tear any road into shreds with its top speed reaching 150 miles. The onyx black finish give it a dark and classy look while the gas tank flames scream for the open road and asphalt to tear up. "Nice, its perfect." muttered 01. On the inside, 01's inner gear head is screaming with joy. (for humor) "Well go out and get 00 before he becomes too much of a hassle." mutters Hr. Hawkins. "Yes Sir!" hollers 01. Off into the distance, the Cam 96 roars like a lion let loose from its cage as 01 rides off to hunt for Pyro. Will 01 find Pyro? What will Pyro do?

Chapter 4 January 10th 4664

The lights screech towards the heavens. The bass lusts for gain. The anthem of dance screams for more. Pyro is lost in synesthesia as he brands a contract with the music, locking his senses and the music in one frame. The questions of his conditions become pointless. Pyro's personal existence ceases to have meaning. "It's just like hearing Deadmau5 at Haunted all over again." whispers Pyro. The dark dance floor lets the imagination run wild. The slamming woofers pump out bass that rattles people to the bones. The lights flash colors of the rainbow as one looks around the club. You might see something one moment. The lights flash; your perception of reality is warped in the flash of an eye. The dance floor is packed as Pyro looses himself in the beat and feels the music, like velvet plush. "Wow, this is awesome." laughs Pyro.

As the music wanes away like a dying ember, Pyro heads back to Mama Annie's to crash out for the night. As Pyro walks down the worn concrete roads, he looks at the floating LED signs that hang in the air, aimlessly displaying their messages to those who give a damn. The city streets are dead but, the night is just as bright as the day. Tall buildings clutter the view 360 degrees all around. The imposing skyscrapers seem to shield and entertain the bland-minded idiots of Euphora as the outside world suffers and feels pain. I take what I said earlier back. The streets are littered with mindless android on mindless patrols watching over mindless imbeciles stuck in a utopian rut. Androids wake laggard hobos lying around every now and then and proceed to question the half-dazed hobos. Pyro stares at this scene in confusion. "_What's the point? You know the dudes are homeless. You're just talking to a rock over and over again. God damn AI still can't figure it out? There goes "intelligent."_ As he walks up the crooked steps shaped like bad teeth, Pyro stares at the LED sign flashing Mama Annie's. It isn't impressive. Its just a small and old NYC styled house from the Bronx. The door slides open like magic. Of course this can happen. It's the year 4664. Annie sits in the guest room, a bland room laced with cheesy red wallpaper and ass-ugly wall linings. The shelves are stacked with rows upon rows of electronical tomes. What did you expect? Books? Bah! She's a small and petite woman. Annie stands at around 1.6m with dark brown hair tied in a neat bonnet. Her dark green eyes give an image of stern ruling with a touch of motherly love. The long red dress of hers gives the comfort of a maternal figure, experienced and willing to care. She still has on her apron and looks upon Pyro with her stern yet worried gaze. "You've been out late." She says. Annie tries to keep a nonchalant tone but can't fight back the worry for Pyro. "Sorry Annie, I was out and about again. I promise I'll come back earlier next time." He murmured. Ever since he first met Annie, Pyro has been under her caring wing. She listens to his troubles and tries, to the best of her abilities, to give advice to the young and troubled Pyro. At first, Annie's face was met with skepticism. But, she comes to believe that Pyro is going through a difficult period in his life. Annie takes him in like the son she never had and gives him the tender care of a mother. Her weary eyes seem to sigh in comfort at Pyro's promise. "I'm probably going to be out early tomorrow to do some errands. If you need or want anything special I'll get on it after I get back." She said. "Alright, got it. (after some hesitation) Thanks for everything Annie. I really appreciate it. Good night." He says.

"Talk to me." Mumbles Mr. Hawkins. "Sir, target has retreated. So far, he seems to revolve around going out, sleeping, and working a bit." Utters 01. "Well, this is going nowhere. How about this? You send an _invitation_ to our little rodent that says you have answers to questions. Lure him out, then fucking crush him like a bug." Yells Mr. Hawkins. The smoke spews from his cigar like a factory chimney. He grunts as he contemplates his next move, like a chess player marking his next move. To attack or to lie in waiting? "I say you give our little rodent a mouse trap tomorrow and lure him out." Spews Mr. Hawkins. "Got it. Can I go all out?" inquires 01. "Yes you can. Just don't kill him. Oh yea, now I'm gonna start calling you Armstrong. Got it?" said Mr. Hawkins. "Yes sir." Whispers Armstrong

January 11th 4664

"Pyro, meet me at the old place and lets talk." Whispered Jack into his sleek headset. "Alright. Oh yea do you know where I can get a keyboard?" replied Pyro. "A what?!" stumbles Jack. "You know a keyboard, the thing with black and white keys that plays music." Pyro. "Dude, those things have been gone for years. Most people use mind processors to convert brain waves to music." _God damn people are really lazy now a days._ "Doesn't any body still play their music the old fashion way?" whined Pyro "Just meet me up right now, I don't have a lot of time. Anyways, I'll look into it. Chill" sighed Jack.

The tall buildings stand like guardians blind to everything in the world. The ally seems like an endless lane of brick, cement, graffiti, stank, and destitute. "Hello Pyro." Mutters Armstrong. "Who the hell are you?" inquires Pyro "Enough of the small talk. Time to bring you down.". Yelled Armstrong. The shells start flying. Armstrong's 2 main revolvers slide out of his arms and they start to fire off the 9mm c4 core rounds and they make explosions that belittle fireworks. 'Holy Shit. Wait what do I do?" screams Pyro.

Thump. Thump. Thump. "After I'm gone, your earth will be free to live out its miserable span of existence. Because one of my satellites. And that's how it is." "FIRE JETS: ONLINE, RELEASEING: SABER" the words flash across Pyro's mind. Pyro mind starts to go under technical lockdown as the abilities start to activate one by one. Little by little, Pyro's human mind shuts down as the electrical components take the ring. Fire that burns like the sun itself screams from the jets pulsating in Pyro's feet. "THREAT IDENTIFIED AS PHANTOM 01: ARMSTRONG" Swinging left and right, Pyro fights like the famous blinds swordsman Zatoichi. He holds the blade with the edge facing downward as if it were a knife and starts to slash at Armstrong. "Damn this kid is fast. Something I wish I had." Armstrong mutters (Due to the nature of Armstrong's construction, he's sort of low on mobility. He just blasts shit with brutal strength.) Their eyes meet as one, the underdog, faces the towering titan, the senior. Bullets fly, walls fall down, and hot metal slices through bricks like hot butter. What is to happen? (I'm too damn lazy to write more.)

Jaunary 11th 4664

"STOP IT!" screams Pyro. The pounding of music in his head mixed with an array of numbers and letters flashing in his mind overwhelm him. It is as if something dark, darker then the night and more destructive then humanity itself, wants to rip straight through his skull, out his eyes, and consume the world in fiery pain and darkness. "Sir, this turns out to be more difficult then I though." Armstrong mutters. Though Armstrong is built for heavy offense and defense, even his is getting damaged by Pyro's sabers. One of his revolver's barrels has already been sawed off from contact with Pyro's sabers. A clean cut so neat that it looks like the barrel was cut by laser. The two phantom menaces (hehe corniness) exchange blows, swipes, bullets, and blazes of fire. The little street ally is tattered, scorched, and completely destroyed as two phantoms, each packing the power of a national army, wreak havoc and destruction in a seemingly peaceful utopia (where the hell are the cops?! Well I bet there on they're way.) "Permission to use _that_?" bellowed Armstrong. "Fuck it. If you use _that_, you will defiantly set off an alarm of some sort. We don't want the world government on our tail just yet. Tell that son of a bitch that this isn't the last of our attacks. Be fucking ready for more shit." muttered Mr. Hawkins


End file.
